


Liberty

by lisakodysam



Series: Adam and Steve [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Conversation, Dancing, Fingering, First Date, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Macho fluff, Oral Sex, Purgatory, Secret club, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisakodysam/pseuds/lisakodysam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve takes Shepard on a first date and teaches him to dance.  Shepard shows his appreciation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liberty

**Author's Note:**

> This continues on from 'White Noise' but can also be read on its own.
> 
> My thanks again to CCBug for her Macho American checks and Brit alerts! :-)

With a deft flick of his wrists, Shepard watched in satisfaction as the crisp white sheet billowed up before slowly settling over the bed. He looked up as he heard a quiet _chirp,_ signifying that someone was requesting entrance to his quarters.

"Come in," he called out, bending over the bed to smooth out the sheet. The door swished open and closed, and in his peripheral vision he watched a pair of booted legs in black pants walk down the steps.

"Hey."

Shepard straightened up, surprised by the flutter in his stomach when he set eyes on the Normandy's shuttle pilot. "Hey," he answered, firmly subjugating a grin before inwardly tutting at himself. What was he, a teenager or something?

Cortez leaned against a bulkhead, folding his arms and doing absolutely nothing to hide _his_ grin. "So… even the mighty Commander Shepard makes his own bed."

"Well, unless we've taken a maid on board, yes, the mighty Commander Shepard makes his own bed." He reached for a pillow and tossed it to Cortez, along with a clean pillow case. "Who makes yours?"

"I do," he replied with a shrug as he began to pull the pillowcase over the pillow, and Shepard did the same with the other pillow. "I'm actually pretty good at it."

"Glad to hear it," said Shepard with mock sternness as he plumped up his pillow and placed it on the bed. "Because I won't stand for slacking on the job, soldier."

Cortez threw his pillow onto the bed and it landed beside Shepard's. "I'd put _my_ pillow work up against _yours_ anytime."

Shepard glared at the second pillow – which was much plumper and smoother than his own – and grunted in annoyance. "It'll do, I guess," he remarked sourly before pointing at a recess in the wall. "Are you as good at pouring as you are at _pillows_?"

"I'm better," Cortez boasted, moving to the recess and pouring them both a coffee.

Shepard threw the comforter over the bed, watching Cortez all the time, suddenly feeling awkward. "I've… been meaning to come see you in the shuttle bay."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's just… well."

"James?"

"James."

Cortez turned around and brought the coffees to the table next to the plush, L-shaped couch, setting them down. "You could have emailed me, you know. Asked me to come up."

Shepard stared at the bed for a moment before turning to face Cortez. Noticing that the lieutenant was standing, he indicated that Cortez should sit on the couch, which he did. Shepard joined him, but sat on the other part of the 'L', a few feet separating them.

Both men reached for their coffee at the same time and raised it to their lips in unison. Then, they paused, looking sidelong at each other, and snorted. Cortez took a sip of his coffee, and Shepard brought his own mug down to his lap, frowning at the contents. "Yeah, I _could_ have emailed you. I thought about it, even started a couple of times. But…"

"But?" prompted Cortez, taking another sip.

Shepard shrugged, not taking his eyes off his mug. "It kinda felt like I was _summoning_ you. I only _summon_ people when I'm planning on giving them a dressing down." He held up a hand, forestalling Cortez's response to _that_ , and the lieutenant laughed loudly. Shepard raised his mug to his lips and took a large gulp before setting it down and shaking his head.

"Well, I'm here now," Cortez answered. "You didn't summon me, I'm here on my own. And James isn't around. It's just the two of us."

Shepard's shoulders rose as he drew in a deep breath. "I guess you want to _talk_ , then."

"I _want_ to spend a bit of time with you and yes, that probably _does_ involve a conversation of some kind."

"You know what I mean," he said gruffly.

Cortez placed his mug on the table and sat back, while Shepard sat forward, hands tightly clasped together. "All right," Steve began. "Yes, I want to talk, about what happened on the Kodiak. I gave you a hand job. You seemed to like it. Then your headache got really bad so I told you to lie down while I tried to fix the environmental controls. After a while, you felt better and helped me. It took us most of the night, but we got it done. The Normandy came for us in the morning when the storm had died down. I've spent the past two days fixing up the Kodiak, and _you've_ spent the past two days avoiding me."

Shepard picked up his mug and turned slightly toward Cortez, wearing a knowing half-smile. "You have a hell of a lot to say, don't you?"

" _One_ of us needed to say something," Cortez replied firmly, _not_ smiling.

"Ouch. So you bite as well."

Usually, Cortez would have responded to a comment like that, but he continued to drink his coffee and gave no indication that he intended to reply. Shepard's frown deepened, his stomach turning over as guilt pricked at his skin. He finished off his drink and set the mug down, pushing it away. "I never wanted you to feel used, Steve," he uttered quietly.

"I don't. I just want to know where I stand. Where _we_ stand, if there even _is_ a 'we'. If it was a one-time thing, that's fine. Well, it's not, but at least I'll know for sure." He put his empty mug down and leaned forward, meeting Shepard's eyes. "Is that what you want? For us to forget it ever happened and leave it at that?"

Shepard's eyes lowered, his nostrils flaring slightly. "In truth, that _would_ be the best thing. The regs on fraternisation are very cl-"

"I'm not _talking_ about the damned regs," Cortez interrupted heatedly.

Shepard looked up at Steve, taken aback by the fire in his eyes. "Well, we _should_ ," he argued.

"Weren't you the one who told me that each day could be our last? And let's face it – either this war will end with us defeating the Reapers or our deaths-"

"We are _not_ going to lose this war!" Shepard averred passionately.

"All right, then!" Cortez sat back, folding his arms and issuing Shepard a challenging look. "When we _win_ this war, do you really think anyone is going to throw our asses in jail for _anything_? Least of all for offering each other a little companionship?" He fixed his eyes on Shepard, who once again glanced down. "We'll be heroes, and you'll be hailed as saviour of the universe again. Nobody will question jack shit! So don't quote me _regs_ , Commander. I want to know what _you_ want."

"I'm thinking of you, Steve."

"And so am I. I want to be _happy_. I want _you_ to be happy." He leaned forward and laid a hand on Shepard's thigh. "We could make each other happy," he said in a softer tone. "Do _you_ want this?"

Shepard stared down at Cortez's hand and, after a pause, covered it with his own. "You know I do. But if we're going to do this, we need to keep a lid on it. I will _not_ budge on that. You're right – I doubt anyone will kick up a stink over my activities, with the Reaper situation as it is. But, as great a pilot as you are, Steve, you're replaceable. Not to me, but to the Alliance. It's hard, but it's the truth. This is not negotiable."

"I understand that," Cortez agreed, nodding. "So we keep a lid on it."

"Are you _sure_ about this?" asked Shepard.

"Absolutely," he replied without hesitation. "You?"

Shepard slowly squeezed Steve's hand. "You bet."

Cortez quietly released a long breath, the tension that had built inside him over the last two days easing. "Talk to me. It wasn't just the regs that stopped you sending that email."

Shepard nodded, his hesitant smile returning. "I don't usually make excuses for anything, but… you've done the whole _relationship_ deal. I haven't. I've had… _things_. Encounters. A few of them memorable, most of them forgettable." He sighed and edged a little closer to Cortez, but looked down at his hands. "I don't want _us_ to be an encounter. I want more than that, but I don't know how it works. _Relationships_ have rules which require you to treat people in a certain way. I guess I treated _you_ like an encounter. I'm sorry for that. There – you got me to talk about my _feelings._ Happy?"

When Steve didn't answer, Shepard looked up, relieved to see that the other man was smiling, though he'd be damned if he'd show it.

"That's _not_ happy," Shepard remarked acerbically. "That's _smug."_

"Well, it just amazes me. The mighty Commander Sh-"

Shepard folded his arms, a warning in his eyes. " _Stop_ calling me that, Lieutenant."

"The _mighty Commander Shepard_ ," Steve went on, heedless, "saviour of the universe and life as we know it, trembles in the face of talking about _relationships_."

"Do I _look_ like I'm trembling to you?" he barked before turning away from the lieutenant, no longer able to maintain his fierce demeanour.

"No. You look like you're smiling," Cortez observed as he stood up and moved closer to Shepard, sitting right beside him. "You know I'm teasing you, right?"

"Something _else_ you're good at, along with pouring coffee and stuffing pillows," Shepard retorted, amusement in his eyes as they briefly lingered on the lieutenant. "Is there no end to your talents?"

"I'm talented at lots of things," purred Cortez in a honeyed whisper.

"No doubt."

Cortez moved a hand to Shepard's back, lightly rubbing, and the commander relaxed a little against his touch.

"So you want a shot at a relationship, huh?" asked Cortez, and Shepard shrugged, turning back to Cortez with a straight face, though his eyes betrayed softness and a hint of uncertainty that made Cortez's smile widen. "Well, the first thing us _emotionally-aware_ people usually do when starting a relationship is go on a date."

" _Not_ give a hand job, then?" quipped the commander.

"That usually comes later," laughed Cortez, "so we're ahead of ourselves already. Well? Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"A date? _Really?"_ scoffed Shepard, though warmth bloomed through his centre, a sensation wholly unfamiliar to him, and a world away from the jagged barbs of adrenaline he was accustomed to.

"Yeah, I'm serious. We'll be at the Citadel all day, right? So I was thinking Purgatory, tonight. I'll meet you there at eight in the Lower Bar."

"Why don't we go together?" Shepard asked, confused. "Wouldn't that make more sense?"

"Who's the expert on relationships here? Me or you?"

"How do I know you're not making up the rules as you go along?"

"You don't."

"And why can't we just have a drink here, anyway?"

Steve stood up and moved away from the couch, stopping and turning to face Shepard. "The purpose of a date is for us to find out more about each other, away from the usual setting. You already know I'm good at stuffing pillows, pouring coffee, hand jobs and teasing. Now it's _your_ turn to bring something to the table. See you at eight, Commander."

He headed for the door, and Shepard remained seated until Cortez had nearly departed, before he leapt up. "Hey. Just a second."

Cortez waited as Shepard walked up to him, stopping a foot or so away. "Yes, Commander?"

Shepard sighed and looked up at the ceiling, the fingers of his left hand drumming against his thigh, his other arm propped against the wall. "You want to know the reason I always tag along when you take the shuttle for a spin?"

"Because your ass loves getting whipped at poker?"

" _Apart_ from that," Shepard replied, his tone hard but with the slightly tempered edge that told Steve he was not entirely serious. "It's because…" He sighed again, and Steve did his best not to smile at Shepard's uncharacteristic awkwardness. "It's because, well, I don't have to be _Shepard_ when it's just us. I can just be _Adam_."

"Really?" Cortez smiled. "Do you have any more compliments, or are you all out?"

"Don't push your luck," warned Shepard before sighing for a third time. "What I'm trying to say is, I enjoy your company. When it's us two, I can… forget about everything for a while, you know?" He shrugged. "You're not much to look at, but what do you want?"

"Asshole."

"That's _Commander_ Asshole to you, Lieutenant."

Cortez dipped his head, doing his best to look contrite. "Sorry. I spoke out of line. _Commander_ Asshole."

"That's better."

Their eyes met, and both men, no longer able to keep up the façade, burst out laughing. After a minute, Shepard slapped Cortez's arm once. "Listen… I said you could call me Adam on board the Kodiak when it's just us two. Well, I guess you could call me Adam in here, as well. No commander, no Shepard. Just Adam."

"Not Commander Asshole, then?" he asked cheekily, backpedalling as Shepard lunged at him. "All right!" he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Adam it is. So long as you call me Steve, and not Lieutenant."

"I make no promises," Shepard declared in his sternest voice as he pointed at the door. "Now, get outta here. I'll be down to inspect the Kodiak in a few."

Cortez nodded before taking a step closer to Shepard, bringing their lips a few centimetres apart. "Don't I get something to send me on my way, Adam?" he breathed huskily, his palms resting against the commander's chest. Shepard began to lean forward, and Cortez abruptly backed away. "Actually… let's save it for tonight. Don't forget. Twenty-hundred hours."

The doors slid open, and Steve turned away just in time for Shepard to see the lieutenant's smile as he departed. Shepard scowled at the doors as they closed and he moved further inside his quarters, folding his arms and huffing.

" _Teasing_. Yup."

~o~O~o~

Steve arrived at Purgatory early. He had a few things to take care of, including getting some shots lined up and finding a decent spot at the bar before the place filled up. He kept one eye on the entrance as he completed his third task more discreetly, a quick omni-tool to omni-tool transaction with the Turian barman for services which might be required later. He was told that if they _weren't_ required, however, there would be no refunds.

EDI and Joker were there as well, and he passed the time with them for a spell before leaving them to it. As he waited for Shepard, he watched them from the bar, finding their interactions fascinating and endearing. EDI seemed to drink in her surroundings and the people around her, while Joker looked on and fielded her myriad questions, his expression veering between embarrassed and proud.

Shepard, of course, arrived dead on time.

Steve shook his head as his commander entered the bar, as stiff and forbidding-looking as ever. Shepard hadn't deviated from his usual choice of clothing when visiting the Citadel: combat pants, worn but serviceable boots, plain shirt, Kevlar vest and a couple of pistols on his belt _just in case_. Normally, weapons were confiscated and held at the door, but Shepard, with his Spectre status, was always waved through.

Steve looked down at his own clothing and, remembering that they were _not_ supposed to be on a date, wondered if he'd overdressed. He was wearing a pair of grey pants and a close-fitting black shirt – unbuttoned to the chest – with a large silver dragon emblazoned across the back. He shrugged, figuring it was too late now, and raised an arm to catch Shepard's attention.

After a brief nod at Joker and EDI, Shepard joined Steve at the bar. They leaned against the counter, not standing too close together, and appraised the other's choice of clothing before they casually looked around the bar, both wearing a faint smile.

"Glad to see you shaved, at least," Steve remarked wryly.

"You too," said Shepard with a glance at Steve's exposed chest. "Or did you wax?"

Steve nodded, casting a surreptitious glance at Shepard. "You like it?"

"I like it just fine," answered Shepard nonchalantly before turning back to the bar, seeing that Steve had already procured a bottle of tequila, a small bowl containing sea salt and lime wedges, and two shot glasses, which were untouched. Not quite sure what was expected of him on a date – or at least a date disguised as two friends having drinks – Shepard opened the bottle and filled the small glasses, needing to do something with his hands. He then licked along the side of his thumb and sprinkled a little salt on it before passing the bowl to Steve, and the pilot did the same.

They downed their shots together and bit into their lime wedges, wincing and shaking themselves off before the glasses were refilled and another shot each was imbibed. Steve knew that Shepard was a seasoned drinker but had hoped that a couple of shots might relax him; the tautness and forced casualness of the man's posture told another story, however.

"You okay?" asked Steve as the ambient music was cranked up a notch.

"Yeah," Shepard answered immediately before frowning and, after a minute, he shrugged. "This is… kinda… weird. No offence."

"We've been here before," Steve reasoned. "With the crew _and_ without. You've drunk me under the table on more than one occasion."

"I know that." Shepard filled his glass for a third time. "But this is different."

"Easy, Commander," Cortez laughed, placing a hand over his own glass. "People will think you're trying to get me drunk."

" _People_ can go to hell." Shepard placed the bottle on the counter and raised his shot glass to Steve before knocking it back. "Present company excepted."

Shepard bit another piece of lime and shuddered momentarily before placing his glass down and tapping his hand on the counter in time to the music while looking at the other patrons, suddenly unsure of himself. Was he supposed to use a line on Steve? Alluringly drape himself across the counter and give Steve the sign (whatever that was)? Hell, he didn't _have_ any lines and could barely _spell_ alluring, let alone _be_ it.

"You wanna go back to the Normandy?" Steve enquired evenly.

"No. Next time we _don't_ go on a date, we'll use my quarters. Tonight was your idea. I'm willing to suck it up for your sake."

Steve smiled at the glimmer of mirth in Shepard's eyes and tidied up the discarded lime wedges, allowing his hand to brush against Shepard's for a second. "We don't have to do this. Not if you're uncomfortable."

"I'm perfectly comfortable," asserted the commander, raising his eyebrows at Cortez's look of scepticism. "Besides, I'll be damned if I'll give you any more excuses to accuse me of _trembling_ at something. Like a date. Or _not_ a date." They shared a fleeting smile before Shepard cleared his throat. "You look good, Steve," he mumbled, his eyes wandering over to Joker and EDI. "Real good."

"Thanks," answered Steve, delighted at yet another compliment from his plain-talking CO. "And hey, the night is young. I may make you tremble yet, Commander."

Still facing away from Steve, Shepard nodded, warmth and anticipation coursing through him. He was staggered by the effect Steve's voice, and tantalising hints, had on him. Realising he was grinning like a moron, he straightened up as he noticed that EDI's cool, appraising stare was trained directly on him.

"You ever get the feeling you're being… studied?" Steve asked from behind him, also noticing EDI's scrutiny.

"Yeah."

Steve picked up the bottle of tequila and passed it to Shepard before taking the shot glasses, leaving the bowl behind. "Why don't we take this upstairs?" he suggested. "I haven't seen your moves in a while. Got any new ones?"

"Maybe," Shepard drawled with an enigmatic shrug of one shoulder. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," joked Cortez as they headed for the steps up to the dancefloor.

"Asshole."

" _Lieutenant_ Asshole, if you don't mind. Sir."

"You got it," answered Shepard, and both men laughed as they climbed the steps, taking the last few quickly and with enthusiasm.

When they reached the dance floor, however, Shepard seemed to grow tense again. Noticing this, Steve narrowed his eyes imperceptibly but said nothing. He knew Shepard was a horrible dancer but most times he'd seen the commander dance they'd been too drunk to care, and although Steve's ears had started to tingle a little, he was more or less sober.

Even after they'd had a few more shots, though, Shepard appeared to be sober _plus_. He was fully alert and his eyes were wide, darting here and there as the twosome pressed through the throng of people all moving skilfully in time with the music.

 _That's the key_ , Shepard thought to himself. _Just keep in time and you won't end up making a complete dick of yourself._

After they'd finished off the tequila, Steve left the bottle and their glasses on the shelf that ran around the perimeter and dragged Shepard into the middle of a group of people. He turned to face Shepard before effortlessly moving to the thumping drum and bass, his eyes half closed in pleasure. _How does he get into it so quickly?_ Shepard wondered and he gulped, distracted by how Steve's muscular thighs strained against the thin fabric of his slacks.

"My face is up here," quipped Steve, pointing at his own nose.

Shepard nodded, and continued to nod in time to the beat, his arms held stiffly at his sides.

"That's _not_ dancing." Steve pointed to Shepard's feet. "Get moving. You can do it, Commander."

Rising to the challenge, Shepard began to tap his feet together, but wasn't sure if he was doing so in time to the music, so entranced was he by Steve's lithe body and liquid movements. The pilot raised his arms, bringing his hands above his head, and his shirt rose over his abdomen, exposing the V-shaped musculature which tapered down beneath his slacks, again closing his eyes as his slender hips gyrated.

"Wow," Shepard mumbled, his mouth suddenly bone dry. As Steve opened his eyes, Shepard decided to impress his dancing partner – because Shepard was definitely _dancing_ – and began to raise his own arms, only to narrowly miss elbowing the lady to his side in the face.

"Hey, douchebag!" protested the girl's boyfriend before he noticed that Shepard was carrying, and held his hands up, backing off. Shepard mumbled an apology to the dancer before turning away from her.

Steve laughed and moved his mouth close to the commander's ear. "Now I see why you brought the guns. But don't feel bad – that's the best dad dancing I've seen this side of Gemini Sigma."

"Bite me," Shepard groused.

Taking pity on Shepard, Steve steered him to a less-populated area of the dance floor and laid his hands on Shepard's arms. "Just stop for a minute," he instructed loudly over the music, and both men stood still. "You're worrying too much about how you look," Steve advised. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" asked Shepard suspiciously.

"Just do it. Humour me, okay?"

Shepard shook his head and grumbled under his breath but did as Steve had suggested.

"Listen to the music," said Steve. " _Really_ listen."

Shepard inhaled sharply as Steve's hands moved to his waist. "Instead of thinking about how you _look_ ," Steve said, his breath against Shepard's ear sending jolts shooting through him, "think about how the music makes you _feel."_ Steve's hands moved lower and held onto Shepard's hips, the commander's eyes snapping open as Steve's own hips pressed into him. "Just _feel_ ," Steve continued, and he began to dance, guiding Shepard's hips to move with his own.

Shepard glanced around the dance floor, wondering who was about tonight, and was surprised at the speed with which Steve grabbed Shepard's jaw, bringing them nose-to-nose. "Nobody's watching you," asserted the pilot truthfully, his electric blue eyes intense. "Nobody except _me._ Dance for me, Commander. I'm the only one here. _"_

Steve released Shepard and moved behind him, once again sliding his hands down to the commander's hips, bringing his own body close. "Dance for me," he repeated, his words vibrating against his commander's neck as he began to softly grind against Shepard. "Close your eyes and _feel_ the music. Feel _me_."

Shepard was sure there must have been an illegal compound of some kind in the steam that came out of the vents on Purgatory's dancefloor, because he began to feel very strange indeed, almost giddy. He closed his eyes, his head and body light, and covered Steve's hands with his own, his head falling back to rest against Steve's shoulder. The music – thumping bass and jarring, discordant synths – seemed to slow almost to a stop, as did his heartbeat, which was loud in his ears and the music began to fill him, become a part of him. He began to _feel_ it as his body came alive in Steve's arms.

"You feel that?" asked Steve, placing one of his hands in the small of Shepard's back. "It starts right here, in the base of your spine. Don't fight it. Let yourself go and embrace it. _Love_ it."

"I-I feel it," Shepard gasped, his heart quickening as Steve stroked up and down his back, his other hand splaying across Shepard's abdomen.

"Look," Steve murmured, nodding ahead to the mirrored wall in front of them. "You're dancing. And I like what I see. Damn, Shepard, you can really _dance_."

Shepard opened his eyes and, to his astonishment, he was moving his hips in a way that even _he_ thought was hot.

Steve slowly trailed one hand down to Shepard's, meshing their fingers together, and nuzzled the side of the commander's neck. "I _really_ like what I see, Commander. And I'm guessing you do, too." With his other hand, he clutched Shepard's belt buckle and pulled the material of the commander's combats taut, revealing that Shepard was rock hard beneath them.

"Steve," Shepard breathed, a wicked shimmy rocking his body as he also felt Steve's need press into his buttock. "I don't want to dance anymore."

"Now that's disappointing," teased Cortez as he continued to grind against the commander. "You know four things that I'm good at and you've shown me _one_ in return. You owe me big."

"And I intend to deliver," Shepard replied, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he continued to watch them both in the mirror. "I don't want to dance anymore because I want to fuck you, Steve. Right now. And I'm _very_ good at fucking. That's what _I'm_ bringing to the table. Is that big enough for you?"

Steve stilled behind him and rested his forehead against the back of Shepard's head, slowly running his hands up and down the commander's arms. They stopped dancing and stood together for a minute, both trying to steady their breathing.

"Then we need to get off of this dance floor," Steve decided, and Shepard turned around to face him, his eyes moving around the enclosed space.

"We can't return to the Normandy," said Shepard with a quick glance at his groin. "Not like this."

"We won't have to." Steve pulled his shirt down around his hips, just about covering the bulge in his pants. "Walk behind me. Come on." He nodded toward the steps leading down to the lower bar, and Shepard stayed very close to the lieutenant as they descended. Thankfully, there were enough people in the club by now for his problem to go unnoticed, even by Joker and EDI, who they passed on the way to the bar.

They squeezed past several patrons, dodging errant elbows and hands, before they finally reached the bar. After a minute, Steve caught the attention of the Turian bartender he'd spoken to earlier, and they exchanged a quick nod. Shepard looked on curiously as the bartender activated his omni-tool and entered a quick command.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Steve gave no reply and jerked his head toward the far end of the bar. Shepard followed, almost losing him in the crowd a couple of times, before he found the lieutenant standing next to a plain door in the far wall. Steve glanced around before raising his omni-tool, and it lit up along with a small panel on the door, which slid open. Steve quickly bundled Shepard inside and the door closed, the previously-loud music becoming muffled.

"What's this?" asked Shepard. They were in a narrow, faintly-lit corridor with some steps leading down. At the bottom of the steps was a set of glass doors through which winking lights could be seen, and different, slower music could be heard.

"Welcome to _Liberty_ ," Steve said, slipping an arm around Shepard's waist. "Not many people know about this place, so keep it to yourself. I think you'll like it."

Shepard frowned. "Another club? With _people?"_

"Nobody cares who you are here," Steve said, his nose brushing against Shepard's cheek. "Here, we can be ourselves. And don't worry about the people – I've made arrangements." He moved his free hand to cup Shepard's balls through his combats, slowly stroking upwards, and the commander grabbed his wrist, pushing him against the wall.

"I don't need _arrangements_ ," he growled before clutching Steve's other wrist, pushing the pilot's arms above his head and hungrily kissing him. Steve reciprocated, breaking off the kiss, panting, when he grew short of breath.

"Hey," he gasped, pushing against Shepard's hands, and the commander released him. "Come on. I've reserved a booth. We can be alone."

Shepard wound his arms around the lieutenant's neck and leaned into him, bringing his mouth close to Steve's. "We're alone now," he rasped.

"Not if someone else comes through here, we're not." Steve slipped out of Shepard's grip and took one of his hands before leading him to the steps. "Be careful, it's pretty dark in here," he advised, and they descended together, arriving at the doors.

They walked through into a lobby area with a few small bars to the right side and one of the club's many dance floors in the centre. All along the left-hand wall were several small transparent compartments, lit from behind, almost like a giant vending machine. Steve approached the compartments while Shepard took a look around, which wasn't easy, as the light level was much lower than in Purgatory.

There were several people here, all from different races, and a lot of couples. Some were dancing, others hanging around the bars, while a few – tucked away in dark corners – appeared to be engaging in some pretty heavy petting. All the patrons had one thing in common, however.

"No women?" Shepard asked.

Steve shook his head. "I hear they have a club of their own somewhere, not that I know where it is. Not that I need to." He touched his omni-tool to a panel, removed something from a compartment and passed it to Shepard.

"Energy bars?" the commander smiled.

"Yeah, I hear you biotics need them, especially when engaging in heavy physical pursuits."

Shepard looked along the rows of compartments and opened one, taking out a small bottle of lubricant which he passed to Steve. "Is this all included?"

"It is if you reserve a booth." He gave the bottle back to Shepard. "You keep it."

Shepard tucked his gifts into a pocket and nodded at a row of compartments containing what looked like wristbands in various different colours. "What are those for?"

Steve came up behind Shepard and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You wear them to show what your preferences are. But we don't need them."

"Don't we?" Shepard joked, pointing to another compartment containing medi-gel. "How do I know what _your_ preferences are?"

"You don't. _Yet,_ " he teased, his voice quiet and low. "But don't worry – we won't need medical assistance afterwards. I'm not _that_ exotic."

"Glad to hear it."

"Well, I think we have everything we need," Steve said, stroking Shepard's shoulder with his thumb. "Anything _you_ need?"

"No," he answered decisively. "I like it straightforward. No tricks."

Steve met the other man's eyes and smiled. "Just like you, huh? Well, Shepard, how about one more dance, now you know how? We can be a little more… _expressive_ in here."

"Why not?" Shepard glanced down as Steve took one of his hands and then looked back up as he was led to the dancefloor. It wasn't as crowded as Purgatory and it was also very poorly-lit, which set Shepard at ease – he had less chance of injuring someone here and, even if he did, they probably wouldn't see him.

They found a spot away from the other patrons where the lights only flickered over them every few seconds or so. "There are some humans in tonight," Steve said, waving his arm in an arc, and Shepard looked around, seeing a dozen or so human males dotted around the club, some of whom were topless. "Why don't we show them our moves, Commander?"

Shepard smiled, a bright, mischievous grin that Steve rarely saw, and he couldn't help returning it. "You want to compete with them, Cortez? Then you need to lose this."

He began to unzip Steve's shirt and pulled it open before moving his hands to Steve's shoulders and slowly pushing the shirt down his arms, his smile fading as he took in the pilot's smooth, flawless skin. "Like caramel," he whispered throatily, moving his mouth close to Steve's neck as the shirt was pulled off his arms. "Do you taste as good?"

Shepard kept a hold of Steve's wrists, keeping the lieutenant's hands behind his back, and feathered kisses along his neck, feeling a shiver run through the handsome shuttle pilot's body. Shepard released Steve's hands and brought his arms around the other man's back, and he felt Steve's hands brush against his face, neck and hair as Shepard wound his arms tightly around Steve, pulling him close.

"Shepard," Steve whispered as the commander began to softly suck on his throat but Shepard did not reply, and slid his hands down the back of Steve's waistband, kneading his hips and grazing his firm buttocks with his fingers.

"Commander-" Steve trembled, his hands tugging at Shepard's vest, but it was firmly secured and Shepard stepped back, one hand resting on Steve's back, the other on his chest, circling a dark brown nipple with his thumb.

"Nobody takes that off but me," he insisted, backing Steve into a dark, secluded corner. "Now I'm going to show you how _I_ like to dance."

His hands moved to Steve's zipper, and the lieutenant looked over Shepard's shoulder as his slacks were undone and tugged open, along with his briefs.

"We… h-have a booth," Steve gasped as a hand firmly encircled his length.

"It's not going anywhere," Shepard muttered. "Keep an eye out."

"Okay, C-C… oh, God," Steve stammered as Shepard dropped to one knee and pressed his lips against Steve's navel, slowly moving downwards, until he drew away and looked up, stroking the hairs at the base of Steve's cock.

"I just found something you're _not_ good at. Waxing. You missed a spot."

"Ah, come on!" Steve complained. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Revenge for earlier?"

"Remember who you're talking to," Shepard teased, Steve's rebuttal dying on his lips as he felt a warm mouth envelop him.

"Oh, man," he moaned, resting his hands on the back of the commander's head, his eyes closing involuntarily. A frustrated yelp left his mouth when Shepard again pulled away.

"I gave you an order, Lieutenant. Keep your eyes open or I'll have you busted down to warrant officer."

"Yeah? Well, I'll tell Admiral Hackett that you're fraternising with a subordinate!" he threatened, both men laughing as Steve manoeuvred himself back into Shepard's mouth.

Shepard pulled away for the third time. "Okay. Now I can't get Hackett out of my head." He stood up and started to fasten Cortez's slacks, the lieutenant groaning and covering his face with his hands. "Here," said Shepard, draping Steve's shirt around his shoulders. "Now take me to the damned booth."

"This is _totally_ revenge for earlier," sighed Steve as he began to walk away, shaking his head, Shepard following.

" _Oh_ , yeah," answered the commander. "But I'm not one to hold a grudge. The teasing ends now, Warrant Officer Cortez. No, wait… now."

"Whatever you say, Private Shepard. After Hackett's finished with you, anyway." To his delight, Shepard laughed loudly and slung an arm around his shoulder. "Having fun?" Steve asked, affection in his eyes as they glanced at each other.

Shepard shrugged, giving Steve a crooked smile. "I could maybe get used to this dating thing, sure. And I think the tequila just kicked in. It takes a bit with me."

They arrived outside a series of cubicles which ran along the back wall of the club, all with a small light on their door, some green and some red. "Green means vacant," Steve explained, and Shepard folded his arms as the lieutenant activated his omni-tool.

"How did you come to know about this place, anyway?"

Steve glanced at him, his face expressionless, before returning his attention to the door. "Jealous again, Commander?"

"You want to flatter yourself, you go right on ahead," answered Shepard, watching Steve's face carefully. "No, really. How do you know about this place?"

The door slid open, revealing a small room, approximately fifteen feet square. Inside was a table with two chairs and a raised leather platform which was not quite a bed or a couch, but would comfortably accommodate two well-built marines. In the corner was a shower cubicle/dryer and on the far wall was a list of rules, any infractions of which would incur an immediate ban. There were no lights in the room but as it had no ceiling, it was occasionally lit up by one of the strobe lights from overhead.

"I've had a few _encounters_ of my own," Steve said candidly as they stood at the threshold. "But… this isn't going to be one of those, is it?" he asked softly.

Shepard stepped closer to the lieutenant and lightly ran his hand up Steve's arm. "No. It's not. No more encounters for us." He rested his hands on Steve's shoulders and tilted his head, his nose brushing against Steve's. "As I'll never be able to do this outside my quarters…"

With surprising tenderness, he captured Steve's lips, and the lieutenant moaned, wrapping his arms around Shepard's back. Shepard's hands moved up to cradle Steve's face and his thumbs stroked along his fine cheekbones, a wonderful lightness bubbling up through his core. Steve got to him. He _really_ got to him, and this was the only way Shepard felt he could show it. And he knew that, banter aside, Steve felt exactly the same way about him.

"Damn," Steve whispered, his eyes still closed, as Shepard slowly withdrew. "That was…"

"Amazing."

Cortez nodded, opening his eyes and holding his commander's gaze. "Yes, it was."

"I think we're good together, Steve," said Shepard earnestly.

Steve turned slightly and steered Shepard through the door. "Let's find out."

"And if we're not?"

The door slid closed. "Then we'll practise until we get it right," murmured Steve, letting his shirt fall to the floor.

Shepard's eyes roamed over Steve's beautiful physique, muscular but not too bulky and his skin the colour of milky coffee – visible even in the low light – and he bent a little, placing a kiss to the lieutenant's collarbone as he unzipped Steve's slacks for the second time. Steve wrapped his arms around Shepard's neck, stroking through his hair with one hand, and kissed the commander's temple as his slacks slid to his ankles.

"Here," Shepard mumbled, guiding Steve to the 'bed'. Steve sat down and Shepard crouched in front of him, removing Steve's boots, slacks and underwear. Steve sighed as he lay back, draping one arm above his head, the other resting on his tight, sculpted abdomen.

"Your turn now, Commander," he said invitingly.

Shepard sat on one of the small chairs and removed his boots. "Adam," he corrected.

"But we're not in the Kodiak or your quarters," Steve questioned, his eyes following Shepard as the commander stood.

Shepard laid his pistols on the table, then began to unbuckle his vest before pulling it over his head. "I think it's safe for you to call me Adam anytime there's a chance we'll get naked. Or, in the case of the Kodiak, anytime there's a chance I'll be given a sneaky hand job by the pilot."

"Sneaky, my ass," replied Steve, folding both hands behind his head and bending one knee. "That headache of yours? Classic. Totally reeled me in, had me feeling sorry for you."

Shepard nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. "Right… so you jerk off everyone you feel sorry for?"

"Well, sure! I believe the universe would be a much happier place if everyone jerked each other off once in a while. I think that's where you went wrong with Harbinger. You could at least have offered."

"Hm," Shepard mumbled thoughtfully. "Maybe I'd better tell the Council we no longer need the Crucible, then, because Steve Cortez has a better idea. You think any of _them_ will do the deed? 'Cause it sure as hell won't be me." They laughed as Shepard removed his shirt, and then Steve sat up when Shepard's chest was lit up by a strobe light. He stood up, resting his hands on Shepard's chest, tracing his fingers over the intricate network of scars.

"Like a map of the galaxy, huh?" quipped Shepard, but Steve did not smile or reply. "I'm still here," he reassured the other man, nudging his chin.

"I worry about you," Steve murmured with a frown, his eyes fixed on Shepard's chest. "Sometimes when you're on a mission, I wait and wait in the shuttle and I think-"

"Hey." Shepard pushed Steve's chin up. "Don't let yesterday or tomorrow own _today_. We're here now. Together."

With a single nod, Steve closed his eyes and leaned in close, their lips meeting. Shepard's arms wrapped around Steve's as the pilot unbuckled Shepard's belt and removed the bottle of lube from the pocket before he pushed Shepard's combats and underwear down, which Shepard stepped out of. Slowly, Steve guided Shepard to the bed and they lay together, side by side, looking into each other's eyes.

Steve glanced down as he brought the bottle up to his chest. "How do you want to do this?" he asked.

Shepard wrapped his hand around the lieutenant's. "It's your date, Steve. You decide. Where do you want me?"

"I want you inside of me, Adam."

Heat flooded Shepard's stomach and he nodded, chewing on his bottom lip, the thought of him and Steve finally coming together almost undoing him. For a split second he wondered – for Steve's sake – if they were doing the right thing, because there would be no going back from this.

Then, as though he'd read Shepard's mind, Steve reached up and caressed Shepard's cheek. "Don't let tomorrow rule today," he whispered.

"Got it," Shepard said softly. He quickly kissed Steve on the lips and took the small bottle before pushing himself up and kneeling between Steve's legs. He then spread some of the lube over his palms and fingers before parting Steve's legs fully. The lieutenant hunkered down, his eyes closing and a quiet groan escaping as Shepard began to stretch him, slowly slipping two fingers inside, his thumb massaging Steve's balls.

Using his free hand to brace himself, Shepard slid off the bed and stood at its edge, and Steve pushed himself closer as Shepard leaned down, peppering Steve's cock with soft bites before taking his balls into his mouth.

"Oh, God… Adam," Steve moaned, arching his back, his hands gripping the sides of the bed. Shepard continued to explore with his fingers, finally finding a small, rough patch of skin inside and he pushed down on it, a violent tremor rocking Steve's body as Shepard found the spot deep inside that only another man could.

Shepard moved up to Steve's tip, flicking with his tongue and feeling himself harden once again as Steve grunted his approval, bucking his hips. "Better than caramel," he rasped as he pushed a third finger inside of Steve.

"Shepard… please," Steve panted, fearing it would be over too soon. "I can't hold out for much longer. Please…"

Shepard obligingly eased his ministrations, merely running his mouth up and down Steve's shaft as he scissored his fingers, ensuring his pilot would be ready for him.

"God, Shepard," Steve moaned, his voice thin and desperate. "Fuck me. Just f-fuck me. _Please_."

"You sure?" Shepard asked, raising his head a little, and their eyes met as Steve looked down at him.

"I've been sure for a long time," he answered, shuddering as Shepard withdrew his fingers.

"So have I, Steve." Shepard straightened up and grabbed Steve's hips, pulling him right to the edge of the bed and Steve bent his knees, his feet on Shepard's shoulders as the commander drizzled the lube onto his own cock and stroked himself a few times, almost succumbing at the sight of the beautiful man lying in front of him.

He positioned himself at Steve's entrance and kept a hold of one of Steve's hips as he began to ease himself in, stopping as he encountered resistance. "Oh, Lord," he groaned, his fingers digging into Steve's flesh. "You ready?"

"Uh-huh," Steve intoned, brief glimpses of his commander entering him as his eyes rolled in his head almost driving him insane. "You'd better hurry," he gasped. "I don't think I can-"

Leaning forward, Shepard braced one of his hands beneath Steve's armpit, his other taking hold of the other man's cock and Steve erupted in his hand as Shepard pushed himself in fully.

"Damnit!" cried Steve, his legs and lower body convulsing and Shepard, unable to hold back, grabbed Steve by the shoulders and rammed into him, four or five strokes enough to bring him to completion.

Gasping for breath, Shepard stood as still as a statue, fearing his legs would give way if he moved, and Steve's legs slowly splayed to the sides before Shepard held them and moved them down. He carefully withdrew from Steve, who lay in a limp heap beneath him and, drawing strength from he didn't know where, clambered onto the bed and collapsed at his lover's side, flinging an arm across Steve's chest.

"I'm not usually _that_ quick," Shepard laughed breathlessly. "I just kind of got keyed up about this. About you."

"I hear that," mumbled Steve, resting a hand on Shepard's arm.

"Think we need some practise, then?"

"Maybe," Steve joked. "Just a little. But often. _Very_ often."

"Copy that, Lieutenant."

They turned onto their sides and faced each other, foreheads resting together and hands entwined.

"We have the energy bars," Steve suggested.

"Nah. I'm good right here," answered the commander, his eyes closing.

Steve laid a kiss on Shepard's forehead and sighed in contentment. "Same here, Shepard _._ Same here."


End file.
